Lynn
by StorytheBrave
Summary: A short fic about Lynn. Includes her hair, Four, fears, and Marlene. R & R.
1. I Don't Care

They don't look at me the way they look at the other girls. I am not flirted with or smiled at with duplicity, like they want to break the rules with me. I am not fought over, biceps aren't flexed for me, and bullets aren't shot through the bulls eye for me.

I am undesirable, and that's how I'd like to keep it, but for good reason.

I _intimidate. _

I can see right through them; those _animals_, just looking for a way to get some _ass_.

Once upon a time, I could pretend to care for looks and cat-calls. I could blush my way through a group of boys, but one day, I just decided it wasn't worth it. The lies, the obvious attraction to the wrong thing- why hide anymore? I was going to be a Dauntless prodigy, I would be desirable not because of my body or my face, but because I could whoop those scrawny bitches in the ass.

The day I decided not to care anymore was the day I shaved my head. The night before the Choosing Ceremony- when Shauna was out with friends, Hector asleep, and our parent's still working- I took my father's clippers from the sliding cabinet in their bathroom, and turned them on. The feel of _choice_, the idea of freedom was a few seconds away, but, like always, I chose to look at what I was giving up. My eyes glinted in the light above my head, golden brown as always, too sweet. My nose and lips were directly from my mother's face, though I always seem to be scowling- or so I'm told. My hair hung around me like a curtain, a little-girl's hiding place. It, too, like my eyes, was a light shade of golden brown, wavy;_ pretty_. But I didn't want to be pretty- I wanted to be feared, a force to be reckoned with. I smiled at myself in the mirror.

So I did it. I lifted the clippers to my scull, and slowly, those once-wavy locks surrounded me. A nest for a bird of prey. I cleaned them up, put them in the waste basket, and didn't look at myself in the mirror as I turned off the lights.

I raced to the Hub before my family the next day, my black hoodie covering my almost-bare scalp, telling them I was nervous.

When I stepped onto that circle with all the factions displayed before me, I removed my hood, revealing myself as I cut my palm, heard the sizzle of my blood on the coals. I did not search for my family after. I followed the others to back to the Dauntless compound in silence, letting them rake their eyes over the bareness of my head. I didn't care.

Only one thought coursed through my head, anyway.

I am brave.


	2. The Chasm

On days like this you can find me in the Pit, sitting near the Chasm. From far away, it looks like I am bravely looking death in the face: my legs swing off the side, my hands holding onto the bars above me, my torso pushing out so I feel the strain in my arms; the fact that one slip, one miscalculation, and I could be at the bottom of this thing. One might think I look peaceful, but not _Amity_ peaceful- a Dauntless peaceful. The kind that makes all the other factions fear us. Up close, though, you'd be able to see my fingers clenched so hard on the bar they feel numb and you could probably hear my heart racing.

When I sit here, it's probably because I hate everyone, but today, I particularly hate myself.

I hate myself because I can't stop looking at _her_. Marlene is everywhere: my head, my dreams, in front of me at dinner. She can't vacate my mind long enough to let me sort out my feelings for her, decide where I stand, although it will always be one-sided.

I sigh. My left hand slips.

_Shit_.

I am not quick enough, though, and my body sways with the dead weight of my arm. Simultaneously, my right hand loses it's grip, too, but I know it will hold, I just have to breathe. Forcing my body weight back in a graceless roll, I feel myself moving farther from the edge. I stand quickly, but not before I feel someone watching.

"Lynn…" I know that voice, the way it is condescending and caring at the same time, but even all the same.

"Four, I know, okay. You don't need to remind me!" I roll my eyes and turn around, our shoulders brushing as I pass.

"You realize I just lost a transfer that same way, right?" I feel his anger creeping inside my skin.

"I wasn't going to do anything, alright! I'm stable!" I throw my hands into the air, refusing to turn around. I know they're all watching me, seeing how close I put guns near my head; they all think I'm suicidal.

"It's easy to assume you'll survive a stupid stunt- that's why people always attempt that kind of crap!" Now he's in front of me, hands in his pockets. The relaxed pose. I'm in the clear, this time.

"I promise I won't do it again!" I say as I would to my mother.

"Lynn, if I even see you _glance _at the chasm with the same smugness you look at a knife… I will tackle you. No hold's barred." Four knows about me, about those feelings I make sure no one can read, because he's that kind of guy: intelligent, thoughtful, and crazy as fuck. I like Four, I trust him, even though he is sometimes a pain in the ass.

"Fine, just don't hurt my face too much, if you do tackle me. That's the money maker." I breathe a laugh and he laughs, too, a big chuckle that makes him lean back. He must have drunk something tonight; icebergs don't chill that fast.

"C'mon, lets go get some cake." He points his eyes toward the cafeteria.

"If you insist…" I drag my first few steps, making him laugh even more. "God, Four, you are acting extremely unlike yourself."


	3. Fears

I'm not bothered when the needle pierces my skin; I'm not frightened by the cheers erupting from my Dauntless brethren. But the idea of what lies beyond this room chills me to the bone, but I won't let it show.

Eric removes the needle and I strand straight like the stone I imagine myself being. I look back, and Uriah gives me the thumbs up. Marlene is turned towards me, and mouths "_Good luck_". It may be my heart or my headache, but somehow, this gives me strength. I turn forward, crack my knuckles, and walk forward.

The dark room lightens just a tiny bit before my skull cracks against the ground. Hands work for my arms, my legs, trying to tie them down. A cloth is shoved in my mouth. These people are silent, the only sound the rustling of my clothes as I fight against them. But this is how my fear works: no matter what I do, I will be beat. I kick the dark figure in front of me in the stomach, but as my foot hits flesh, it falls through air. I stand, lashing out: Fist to where I _know _a jaw should be, an elbow towards a nose, my knee to a groin. Each time I should be gaining strength, getting the upper hand on my attackers, but it's no use. They disappear and reappear, triggering my faults, making my blood scream in frustration. I know I'm wasting precious time, so I stop. I release my hands to the side and ground my feet. I take the cloth from my mouth.

My heart is pounding in my ears, behind my eyes.

_Breathe, breathe. _

"Come at me." I say to the black room.

I am kicked in the back of the knees, and as I fall the room darkens.

Hands pick me up roughly by the armpits. I am slammed into the wall, the dark room now white and stark. A bald man twice my size is near my face, screaming.

"Look at her! Look at that pretty face!" His saliva is spraying across my face. He backs away, a gruesome grin on his face.

"But what's this-" He goes to one of the smooth walls and pulls open a door that blends simultaneously with the wall. He roughly grabs something and yanks it out into the light.

"Look at this pretty one! Do you like her, because _I_ sure do." He looks down at his captive.

It's Marlene, her face now a mass of bruises, with blood matting her temple. Tears streak her face. My feet turn into lead, my heart leaps, throwing itself forward. The man reaches behind him into the waistband of his pants and props a gun against Marlene's skull.

"Let her go!" My voice screeches out of me. I race towards them, one hand shoving the man's nose into his skull and my foot colliding with his stomach. My other hand pushes the gun out of his now-limp hand. It clatters with a deafening sound. The man falls and dissipates like smoke.

My hands find Marlene's hair, wrapping her in a hug.

The room blackens immediately.

I feel a knife handle in my hand as the room lightens. I can tell it is pressed to someone's throat. Three dead bodies litter the ground, their different blood mixing in a sick puddle. I can't tell who they are because their bodies are covered with white sheets. Two faceless people-men or women, I can't tell- are looking down at the bodies. Their heads suddenly snap up, and their genderless mouths demand: "Do it."

"Do what?" I ask, my heart beginning to pump faster.

"Kill him." They say sternly.

As they say it, I feel a body breathing against me, a body shorter than me, their hair tickling my chin. The knife blade tremors as they breathe.

"Just do it." A little boy's voice tells me. I try lifting the blade, but won't move an inch.

"Hector?" I ask, although I know the answer. The voice and the now-obvious shampoo smell of him tell me who it is. I now also know that my parents and Shauna are who are under the sheets.

"Just do it, Lynn." He tells me again, strong, brave, not afraid to die.

I know I have to, it's the only way to get out.

"I'm so sorry." I whisper as I glide the blade across his delicate skin.

Hector's body goes limp as I'm cast into darkness.

The room that lights up next is padded. The walls and floors are covered in a white pillow-like substance. My shoulder sockets are burning; I know at once I'm in a straight jacket. A small window in the door on the far wall lets me see faces pressed in on each other, trying to get a glimpse; mocking me. Though it is small, I see almost everyone I know: Uriah, the Stiff, Tris, and Marlene, amongst others. They all have sadistic smiles on their faces. The empty feeling of isolation and humility fills my stomach, gathering in my brain.

Their laughter is growing stronger, so much that I can hear it all around me. I am crying and my heart is breaking. This fear is unlike all the others; it has the ability to destroy me. I know this is all in my head, and that I can do this, but it is a tiny whisper against all this noise. The only way to beat this is to face it. I lift my face, so I'm looking directly at Marlene, and even though she is laughing, I smile at her.

As the room bleeds into blackness, I count: that's four. Hopefully I'm halfway through. I wasted time in my first fear because I let it get to me. I need to work fast.

This time though, the lights don't come on, and I feel myself tied down. Then I hear it, the tiny ticking and squealing of _mice_. They come at me at all sides, until I am completely covered by them. I am screaming, screaming so loud I feel it in my bones. I feel all their little feet and noses and tails all over me, scratching and sniffing. Some are biting or clawing. I am going insane, the fact that I can't move is making this so much worse. In some people's minds, this would be considered easy, just relaxing would save me. But every time I try, I feel the mice. The only way to get through this one is to accept. I think that my body is that stone again, and stone's can't feel.

Thankfully, my arms are released and I stand.

When the room lightens, it is in shadows. A dense, smoky scent invades my nose and the heat is pressing in on me. I am in an old house, and the fire has already begun to eat away the wooden walls and floors. I hear windows breaking do to the heat and the crashing of the above story somewhere behind me. I throw myself to the ground, crawling through the only clear path. The fire must have started in the kitchen, which must be in the back; the fire is thinning out as I crawl, so hopefully I'm near an exit. I stand up when I reach a somewhat fire-free room. It looks like a living room. The smoke is still pretty thick here, so I pull my shirt collar above my nose. I take a step, but I jump back as the story above me crashes down, bringing flames with in.

_Shit_.

I jump over a couch, heading to the right, where there has to be a door. I race around a corner. Nothing. How is that possible? My heart is straining in my chest. Sweat drips off my face. My breathing is heavier; I need to get on the ground, but I'm too panicky. I run back to the living room, but it is filled with flames, so I head back. I need to break down a wall: there are no windows, and obviously no doors. I place my ear to a wall and rap twice. It sounds hollow, so I back up as much as possible, and run straight for the wall, shoulder first. The creaks of the thin frame protest as my entire body weight hits it, but it won't crash. I back up again, run, and hit it with the same force. I gasp as the wall and I both fall into the air, and when I hit the ground, all the air in my body is knocked out. I calm myself down in seconds; the fire is gone, it can't hurt me. The lights fade off.

I know this fear, I know it as soon as the lights flick on. I am hanging on the side of a building. My fingertips are clinging to the very edge. This is the easiest fear. I may not be afraid of heights, but I am terrified of falling from them. The only way to pass this fear is simple: I must let go.

So I do.

The lights brighten to reveal my dining room in my parent's home. We are eating dinner, it looks like: hamburgers, the family's favorite. I take one bite of mine, and I remember this fear.

The piece of burger lodges in my throat, and I automatically reach for my glass of water, but it is stuck to the table. No one in my family will look at me. I cough, press my fingers to my esophagus, trying to save myself. I try and remember how to give myself the Heimlich maneuver. I get out of my chair, my air almost gone, the edges of my vision darkening. I lean my body over my chair, hooking it under my ribcage, and thrust myself up, but after several attempts, I can't do it. I fall, the chair clatters down with me, and my heart rests.

The lights come back on, but it is not another fear. I hear cheers. I feel empty, like someone has forced me to vomit multiple times. I am still lying down, from where my last fear ended. _That _one was too real. I force myself onto wobbly legs and find the strength to walk out of the room, where Max, Four, and Eric wait for me, amongst other officials. They all look similar, with their arms crossed, but Four seems so uncomfortable. Probably from being too close to Eric, which I agree with. Eric greets me.

"Congrats, initiate. Fifteen minutes. Not bad." He grins, or at least tries to with all those piercings. Fifteen minutes? That surprises me. I know I won't be first, but at least I'm not dead last.

"Before you can leave us, we have to inject you with a tracking device." I am so tired, I really don't care, and he can probably see that. A woman with blue hair hands him a syringe, and he does it. I walk out of the door.

Cheers great me, and I find some of my fellow initiates. They give me high-fives and make room in their circle to let me stand with them. I look up at the screens showing the current initiate going through: It's Marlene. I hold my breath as she moves through each new fear. She moves swiftly, buts gets caught in some, her time ticking away. When the timer on her screen shows eighteen forty-five, you can tell the lights have come back up in the room. She looks deadly, but from here I can tell she was crying. I pray and hope eighteen minutes is good enough- that no one nudges her out of a spot.

When the screens light up and show our names, mine third and Marlene's fourth, I am pulled into a hug. It feels just the same as in my simulation, expect there's less blood. Thankfully, everyone's too busy to notice, and no one pulls us apart.


	4. Marlene

_Oh, God, I can't breathe._

I wake to this thought every night, head pounding, sweat drenching my clothes, heart weeping.

Marlene don't you realize what you've left here?

That girl with the shaved head and bad attitude is nothing, you carved me out and forgot to fill me with any emotions to replace you.

You forgot to teach me how to live without you.

Your ashes are in the ground and- Oh, God- what if you are struggling for breath like I am, you crazy girl.

I didn't believe them when I heard; I thought it was a horrible joke, but no, there's a war, and no one jokes anymore about death. I found your broken body, and my eyes took a photo of your bent arms and legs; your open mouth and closed eyes.

You were still beautiful, even then.

I could've kissed you.

I would've.

I held your body one last time. I clawed at your clothes and hung my head, my tears spilling into your voiceless mouth. There was no blood, no trace of you for us to remember you. My heart slowed and went fast at the same time; it wanted death, too, I think.

Remember when we were at that transfer's funeral, and we got seriously hammered because Uriah had his father's flask? And we heard Eric preach about the bravery in death, and we agreed? God, we were right. You were braver than me, even in death. You will always be braver than me.

Marlene, I loved you, and when they burned your body I turned away, because I was willing to throw myself into the flames with you.


End file.
